Super American
by actionman81
Summary: Steve Rogers doesn't get the Super Soldier Serum, makes his life as an artist


1943

New York

"Please don't do this. We have time. We can work it out" Peggy Carter smiled sadly at Steve Rogers, one hundred and ten pounds, who stood in Dr. Erskine's laboratory  
"Right now, I'm in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer, a lot of people are going to die. Peggy, this is my choice" he sighed. The experiment, Project Rebirth had failed. Despite the doctor's best efforts, as well as Steve's, he had emerged from the metal cocoon the same he'd always been- a good man, but nothing more. The people who would die were the people he couldn't save, couldn't help, by being the super soldier that they were counting on.  
Peggy said nothing. What could she say?  
Steve tried again "Peggy?" he looked up at her  
"I'm here" she sighed. Though she was there physically, she stated the obvious to imply that she was also there emotionally.  
"I'm going to need a rain check on that dance," he smiled, trying to mask his emotional pain  
"All right. A week next Saturday at The Stork Club," she forced a smile, denying everything, just as he was.  
"You've got it," he replied. Would he even be in her life, a week from today?  
"Eight o'clock on the dot. Don't you dare be late; understood?" she instructed  
"You know, I still don't know how to dance" he shrugged  
"I'll show you how. Just be there."  
"We'll have the band play something slow. I'd hate to step on your-" his voice trailed off. He sighed and left the room. It was no use delaying the inevitable.  
Peggy Carter stared at the small, slight, man who walked away from her. Why couldn't he see that he was already a super soldier in her eyes?  
She looked back ad Dr. Erskine, "I'm sorry"  
He stared at her and smiled, "Rogers is a good man. This project is not a failure. He is still a good man, and we can always begin again, with another good man, or woman"

1947

Los Angeles

"Darling, where are my 001 pencils?" Steve Rogers called to his wife  
"In the cup behind the sketchbooks" she called back from another room  
"Thanks!" he replied once he'd found the pencils. He sat back down on the chair and began filling in the rough outline he'd drawn. Dark flowing hair, robust figure, armored chest plate, knee pads, sturdy boots, and to top it all off, a round star spangled shield.  
"Looks nice" she came up behind him  
He smiled up at her, "Yeah, it's pretty good"  
"Who is she?"  
"Betty Carver, Super American" he smiled. He thought a moment, then asked, "Don't you have a full shift tonight?"  
"Yes" she looked exhausted already, "There are so many coming back, still, and they all need me"  
"Of course they do" he stood so they were eye to eye, "You're the best at what you do"  
"I'm just a nurse" she felt embarrassed by his compliment  
"Just a nurse?" he raised an eyebrow, "Thanks to you, I have a new lease on life. The physical therapy you put me through helped me knock my asthma. You literally saved me from death"  
"Oh Steve" she didn't know how to fully express the emotions running through her. Steve always managed to make her feel good about herself.  
"I'm so lucky" Steve continued, "That you said yes" he took her hands in his, and she looked at the wedding band around her finger, and his matching band. He looked away a moment, "I don't know what you saw in me, Violet"  
"I saw" she turned his face back toward her, "a good man" she kissed him.  
They broke the kiss, and she gave him a slight push back to the sketchbooks, "Now go on, finish off that concept you were working on. You've got to turn it in by Monday"  
"Right" he nodded, "Back to Super American"  
Steve sat down, and Violet left the room, allowing her husband to work. He stared at the sketch. The drawing was black and white, a pencil creation, but Steve saw her as he imagined her, deep chestnut colored hair, chocolate brown eyes, full lips, strong jaw. God, he could've drowned in her face, and would've been happy to. He placed the sketchpad on his desk and unlocked the drawer. It was right there, just as it had always been; a pocket watch. Steve opened the lid and gazed at a photograph from a newspaper. Violet was the love of his life, but she wasn't—nobody could be -  
"Peggy" Steve sighed  
He remembered their car ride to the laboratory, and all the training beforehand. He remember leaping on what he thought was a live grenade  
"Was this a test?" he looked up at her quizzically.  
She'd stared at the small, slight man who'd risked his life for her, preferring to be blown to bits than have any harm befall her.  
Was it enough? Was it enough for anything to really happen between them? Steve never gave himself the chance. Once the project, the experiment, his one last chance at greatness had ended in a rousing failure, he'd left everyone. He just had to get away. He traveled as far as he could, to get away from them all, Dr. Erskine, Bucky Barnes, and her, Peggy Carter.  
Steve smiled at the watch, and then down at the sketchpad. Betty Carver, in her star spangled armor, wielding a circular shield wasn't too far from the truth. Steve had seen her in newsreels in the movie theatres, and over the radio. He sat at his desk, closed his eyes, and heard the radio broadcasts, as though they were playing right now, inside his mind,  
"Among the ashes of a cowardly attack on the land of freedom, an unlikely new hero rises to take up the good fight. Agent Peggy Carter answers the call. A celebrated field agent, she is a master of combat, firearms, and out to deliver a shocking blow to the enemies of justice. Yes, those enemies must surely be trembling today as the name of a new hero rings clear against their machinations. Peggy Carter, Miss America"  
Of course, the moniker, Miss America, had nothing to do with the beauty pageant that had begun a mere twenty some years ago. No, the name was doubly significant. There was of course, Peggy's beauty. Steve didn't think any man could resist her, but she was more than simply a pretty face or a nice body. As an agent, she could fight with the best of the men, putting bullies like Hodge in their place. That inner strength, that confidence, that—knowing who she was, what her value was, helped her immeasurably when she took on world class villains like the dreaded Red Skull. Of course, the other significance to her being called Miss America was because she was fighting for the land of the free, and the home of the brave.  
"The land of the free, because of the brave" Steve whispered, and stared at the photograph in the locket once again.  
"Where are you now?" he sighed. News bulletins noted that Miss America, as she was called, had been shot down over the sea. Others recounted that she'd driven the plane into the ocean purposely, to save hundreds of lives. Either way, she'd never been heard from, and it was up to the men and women of organizations like the Strategic Science Reserve to continue the battle against foreign enemies, and to uphold justice for the weak.  
Steve forced back some tears before they could fall on his pencil sketch. He wiped his eyes with a rag and slipped the watch back in the drawer, and locked it up again.  
He stood and turned around, and caught sight of his wife getting ready for work. He wouldn't have gotten this far without her. She took a skinny, hundred and ten pound asthmatic kid and turned him into something else, not a super soldier, but more of who he already was, a good man. Maybe even a family man, one day. Steve smiled. Maybe by this time next year, there'd be three of them in the house. Steve, Violet and the new baby. If it was a boy, maybe he'd call it Abraham, after the man who believed in him. If it was a girl, maybe -  
Steve let that thought left unrealized. There would be time enough for life to take its course. For now, he was blessed that he had something that every man desired- someone to share his life with.


End file.
